The Grace of Irony
by Tomorrow
Summary: Why did he feel regret?-“I can tell you why.” The woman turned back to him, the cathedral silent... “Because there is a God. There is morality and culpability and transgression... a Savior died for your sins." (1xR).


AN: This story is _heavy_ in Christian content, and so if that makes you uncomfortable or you don't care for it, you may want to skip this fic. This is a former fic of mine that has been completely revamped. It's totally different than the first version, and, I think, much better.

Disclaimers: I don't own _Gundam Wing_ or the song "Good News" (the entire song is not used) or "Christ Child's Lullabye" by Kathy Mattea.

__

A soldier. Cold-blooded assassin. I've committed crimes that people can't even dream of. I've seen things as a child that scar most men, stripping them of sanity… heads decapitated… rivers of red, sweat… tears. People have nightmares from seeing these atrocities… and I was the one who carried them out. My own two hands. My body.

Men have nightmares… I have memories.

I've heard the cries of many people: mother with daughter, father against son, male and female— Known the excruciating, haunting difference between a scream of pain… and mournful wailing. They echo. Each lone. The next more somber than the last.

Damned. Condemned. **Damned.**

_In a world now heading towards peace on its own, it doesn't need soldiers… it doesn't need me. Trowa knew— I've become redundant. I've served my purpose, and now I'm expendable. Alone… because no one needs me… No one cares._

The thoughts of a warrior, now discarded from battle as his prowess is obsolete, as blood fades into healing flesh from all memory but his own. Peace obtained by the objectifying of his soul, in selling the humanity of he who yearns for it and fears it so… this all done for humanity itself. A cruel end for a cruel race, of man who fell from God in the Garden, of creation that subjected to temptation to betray the Holy. Grim irony. Condemnéd sacrifice.

All for the Colonies he murdered, for those who understood his tyranny he fought to free. Selfless deed but corrupt in its fulfillment. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions… and there existed only one stone, but one barrier on the path to halt his destination to Gehenna, dungeon for lost souls: remorse… root of repentance. A Savior's call to the ones he saved; the thirst for forgiveness and knowledge of the One who only can bestow it for eternity.

Heero Yuy had nowhere to go. He knew no place to find redemption; he could revel in no peace even though wrought with his salvation… and so he walked down the sidewalk, was pelted by the rains that chilled his neck and back, water that dripped from his fingers to be forgotten on the pavement. Mane plastered to his face, preventing his eyes from betraying thought to others. Hidden sorrow. Tears he could not shed himself, so perhaps another soul had decided to weep for him in his place, dear surrogate phantom. The wind was vigilant as it touched his wet skin, whispering of his fate in a distant tongue mankind cannot interpret. Teasing an abandoned soul.

**__**

Good News, Good News, an Angel

brings Good News

The bell moaned to men its eerie knell, sheltered in the tower of the edifice this soldier neared as it whispered a hymn that night, lonely call to silence all but litany as the rain continued to fall. The steeple rose against the almost vacant moon, casting the turret in such pale silver to hush men's hearts with awe, cross that crowned it illumined to sterling. The fog emitted from the shower was no less than the breath of the Holy Ghost as Sophia lay watch upon this structure, its fire and fellow dove so blest that the building's windows set in glass hailed the mythril light... inviting the wayward. Haven for sinner and refuge for saints. Feathers scorched in flames.

A church.

Duo had casually mentioned to him at some point in time, on one of the missions they shared when they were alone and dusk had come, that the former pilot of Deathscythe had been raised in a chapel by a priest and fellow nun. But the braided man seemed unwilling to divulge his past entirely, for his smile faded when his thoughts found their way back to that house of God, to those that were His servants and took in an orphan boy. Lambs on the right and brethren goats on the left. They had taken in the naked and clothed him, given shelter to the Father's homeless—would not allow their left hands know what the right attempted. Surely they had done for the Creator what they did for the American.

This simple truth of mercy they demonstrated was perhaps something Duo could never forget, a faith he'd been taught but later rejected. He testified to it himself, for he wore a crucifix around his neck, hidden under his shirt so no one but he would know.

He called himself Shingami, this boy, yet the holy symbol he fingered and the lengthy Book he read at night, forever indulged in the "dark night of the soul" as he refused to surrender himself fully— Finding no evidence of the Almighty in his recent years, only the ally of death, coupled with evil and shame its wife… but his heart, the teachings of that clergyman and Sister followed him even now. They had meant something to him then, and so they continued to haunt him though only gore gave him rest.

"Lord, God of Heaven and Earth, help him to believe in his unbelief" would be his constant prayer, sought by others for his sake. He couldn't let go of memories; his faith to reminisce could not be challenged. Angels guarded him, wanted this lost sheep back in the hands of God with the other ninety-nine that never strayed.

**__**

Good News, Good News, an Angel

brings Good News

As a child, Heero was never granted any hope for spiritual growth, and even if he were he would have probably discarded it as the crutch for humanity, opium given to men so they could cope with life's pain and intrinsic oppression. He didn't need some drug to live… he would do it on his own. A man… no soul. Flesh and blood, working his muscles and brain to complete a task, emotions a result of that brain. Not of a spirit. He'd been treated too mercilessly to believe in human goodness or a higher power's love for him. It was all a pretense, man's desperate hand reaching out for hope.

But maybe there was some truth to religion. Relena was kind, overly compassionate to his guilt and murders, worried for him more than herself, selfless… she'd made references to this God. This former princess— She knew how to forgive, when to let go of vengeance and lead the hearts of the people to healing grace. She knew how to love unconditionally. She— Relena Peacecraft-Darlian wanted to suffer alongside her people.

If she proclaimed God—and she was intelligent and no longer so foolish as to be taken in by fairytales anymore—then the only possible conclusion presented itself: it must very well be this Power that inspired her to righteousness. A God that allowed His spirit into her heart and ignite the soul for others. She'd never been insincere with him… so why would she plead hypocrisy?

The Japanese man rationally couldn't deny that fact. But then his earlier rejection of God had been wrong, and that couldn't be possible. He'd been witness to so much evil, to men's wicked nature that still left its scars on his body, painting its horrid portrait on his skin. Red faded into gray and even stronger flesh. No. There is no God.

So there remained no answer for him.

He was cold, this young man weary, and if Duo was welcomed into a church, then he should surely be. Just to dry off. No more. He could leave unnoticed… as he always did.

Heero entered the building, his body stopped from walking further as his eyes surveyed the expanse of the hall that opened itself to him, red carpets greeting his feet as a reverent hush of dread settled upon the church so still this hour. The bell's toll silenced by heaven.

**__**

Close your eyes, fold your hands

For a moment let your sorrow fade

Pillars supported the arches circling the chapel, so ornate as homage to a King of Kings that reigned over man, chiseled with ivory vines and pale doves bathed in tongues of pyre. The serpent that desecrated Eden wrapped itself around these columns, tongue grazing an apple's surface as so simple a means for the temptation of humanity, its original sin dire. Between these pillars stood the statues of man or woman holding something in its hand or at its side, a ring of light christening the brow as the replica turned to heaven in enlisting the wisdom of the Father's plan. Faith questioned, lives condemned, gone to meet their God.

**__**

Why? Oh why are you afraid?

Next to him a statue rested; the sculpture was that of a young girl, her hair long and falling over her shoulders and across her eyes to keep the gaze hidden beneath stone waves… for in her hand she held a plate where those eyes did lay, cut from her features as penalty for witnessing to Christ. For refusing to deny the Messiah.

****

Has this world stripped you of your faith?

__

St. Lucy, the thoughts of the blue-eyed man whispered as he read the inscription under the piece, learning of her gruesome martyrdom.

**__**

Close your eyes and on bended knee

On his other side a similar statue resided, one of a man with head bowed, tied to the base of a tree with arrows piercing his flesh, the ceramic blood and molded waters oozing from his sinew and onto the wedged grass below. His lips were slightly parted, no doubt mouthing a final prayer for those that killed him, for the sinners that persecuted his flesh but nourished his spirit for the kingdom. A dying servant's lament.

****

Listen to an angel pray

_Sebastian… Relena_, Heero realized as his mind wandered to the countless nights and hours she willingly sacrificed for the people of Earth and Space. She was getting too thin, the circles under her eyes more prevalent the past year or so. This princess was letting them eat away at her body for the sake of their peace, never cursing them… only relieved that innocents wouldn't suffer at the hands of tyrants further. She was too kind. This Sebastian was too kind.

His gaze found a crucifix mounted above the altar; upon this wooden T lay a man both human and divine, head so crowned with thorns as a circle over eternity: Ruler of all that is and the New Jerusalem to come. Blood this Messiah's only robe.

****

And once again prepare the way

His hands and feet were nailed brutally to this crafted instrument of pain and future symbol of salvation, and along his back and running down his ribs were the remnants of scars inflicted to his body by the whip's cry against skin. This forsaken plank— It was a burden all mankind must bear to know redemption; a crest of agony; pendant of compassion and image of eternal love. This Christ mourned for this… not for himself, but for those that crucified him. "INRI" read the scroll above the cross, his condemnation to death.

This crucifix was the depiction humanity could not erase from memory or soul millennia later, for it would be remembered beyond time... forever... never forgetting the wounded Christ until the end of the age.

****

So you'll see the gift that's given

Heero felt himself cringe inwardly as he beheld the execution of the Son of Man, the Son of man's God, forcing the pilot to shut his eyes for a moment at this new sight. He felt regret. Pain. It was so similar… so close to the guilt he felt when he killed that little girl… when he cradled that dead puppy in his arms. But this… he had no reason to feel culpable for the death of the man that dangled from the wood. He had not killed the Savior.

****

For you, a time of joy

But his fellow men did. How poorly humanity repaid Christ for his sacrifice, refusing salvation and surrendering to sin. And Heero, perhaps, was among them.

He noticed a small chamber in the far corner of the hall, appearing to be a shrine and sanctuary for those that found comfort in it, and a little boy no more than five served as its only occupant.

****

Behold, a baby boy

"I'm sorry, Young Man, but you can't enter the Virgin's shrine yet. For privacy's sake, we only allow one person in at a time, and that boy has been waiting a long time to ask Mary's intercession to the Father," he heard a voice from behind resonate amidst the vacancy, stopping him from descending the few stairs that separated him from the inner-chapel's walls.

It was a woman, mature and holding friendship with age, her tone warm and gentle even in its reprimand.

"Virgin?" Heero still did not face her.

"Yes, Child, the Immaculate Mary. If you want to get a prayer to the Father, then she's the one you best call to," the elder explained as her footsteps echoed in his mind and through the hall, feeling her wondering yet patient eyes on his back. Waiting.

**__**

Good News, Good News, an Angel

brings Good News

"You're referring to 'God'?" he merely wished to clarify as he turned to meet the stranger's countenance, his gaze staring then at warm brown eyes and graying hair covered in veil of black and white. But her eyes were soft, a meekness reflected in umber hues. She was draped in long ebony frocks with a crucifix of sterling metal resting around her throat, a Bible cradled against her breast as she watched him… ever silent.

**__**

Good News, Good News, an Angel

brings Good News

"This is your first time in a church, I gather." A simple nod was his reply, and she turned her face away to glance back at the little boy kneeling in the shrine, sighing but a moment before she explained, "I thought so. You just looked so lost... out of place, possibly."

"I was caught in the rain, and I was told by someone that people are welcomed here."

Giving Heero a soft smile, bringing her other hand to rest against the holy Book, she confirmed, "Your friend certainly knows the principles we uphold. You are very welcome to stay, as it is Christ's bidding that we take in the homeless."

She then turned away to leave him to himself, but he reached out and grasped her hand, bringing her gaze back to him. "Ma'am... Sister…"

"Galias," she filled in, taking his wrist in her other palm in a crude form of salutation, "but just call me Sr. Hilda. It's much less formal."

"Fine." His hold on her wrist tightened, capturing her eyes with his Prussian orbs to force her to consider his next words, inferring their significance to him. "Prove God's existence. A 'holy power' residing over mankind, which, from my experience, is primarily evil. The concept is impossible."

She stared at him for a moment, looking away as he released her from his grip, fingers strangling the Bible as with her parting breath she mouthed a silent prayer that God give her inspired speech, to proclaim the Gospel on this night to one of His lost ones as was the Great Commission.

"I'm guessing that you disregard the divine authorship of the Bible since you question the Almighty's existence altogether, so I won't refer to any of its passages or its history. Hopefully, I can give you an example you can understand, regardless of your degree of faith.

"What's your occupation?"

"I was a soldier in the war. I've killed countless men, innocent civilians. I've seen more blood than I ever want to remember," he answered tersely without inflection, cold eyes watching as hers glistened with pity for him. Her tears frosting her lashes and head cast to the floor so sullen—a quiet, "God give me courage," echoing in mercy for him. A despondent swallow soon after.

"Have you ever felt guilty… about killing all those people?"

**__**

Bow your head, speak not a word

Let the silence take you far from here

Fist shaking, mouth clenched in a thin line, firm yet willing to quiver from strain, he turned away from her; eyes set stoically on the Savior on the wood. "Yes."

"Why?" Those brown eyes questioned him, boring into the man as he remained still, expression distant but intense with contemplation. Ever thoughtful.

**__**

The spirit of a child cry every tear

"Because I did something horrendous. I took the lives of too many people."

"So?" Heero returned his countenance to her almost startled as the words left her tongue to mock his remorse, for a moment letting his shock reign in his eyes before quickly masking it once more.

"What do you mean? I just told you that I killed people."

**__**

And may your doubts they disappear

"And I asked you, 'So?' I don't see what your problem is?"

"I did something unforgivable."

"Well, I certainly don't see it that way." She set her Book on the nearest pew and clasped her hands behind her back, taking dilatory steps while her head turned to observe her surroundings as she thought of the best way to explain her response. "According to you, there is no God. Therefore no moral standards, no accountability… no such thing as sin. So your murders, by this logic… are not wrong, because there is no such thing as 'wrong' or 'evil.'

"So if you've done nothing wrong, by your own conclusion… then why do you feel guilt?"

Heero opened his mouth to contradict her… but his breath would not be uttered. Words could not be formed. His lips merely remained parted, eyes blinking erratically as his mind desperately searched for fallacy in her deduction. But at so rare a moment his rationality did not serve him, leaving him victim to her wisdom. Mute. Wondering.

Why did he feel regret?

"I can tell you why." The woman turned back to him, the cathedral silent. Sculpted eyes observed them. Luminous glass withheld them. "Because there is a God. There is morality and culpability and transgression. Evil exists in this world. A Savior died for your sins." She brought her hand to his face, running a finger along his cheek as a soft smile graced him with sodden eyes. "You are remorseful because there is Someone to be sorry to. You have betrayed that Someone." A finger upon his lips. "Don't say it's to the ones you killed, because without a God, referring back to my earlier conclusion, you have no obligation to be sorry for them. Without God, sorrow is nothing, empty, and an unprecedented emotion. Remorse the same thing.

**__**

Bow your head and on bended knee

Hear the story once again

"You are sorry to Someone higher than yourself or me or anyone else on this Earth. You strive to meet a moral standard proclaimed by this Power, as all men try. Why else would humanity feel compassion to help others than themselves, if not for Another guiding them to it? They would indulge selfishness truly if no punishment or call for righteousness somewhere did not beckon them.

"And where does that plea come from?

"It comes from God… that Higher Power."

Sighing against her fear, Sr. Hilda retrieved her Bible and stood before the young pilot, still motionless, face ever impassive even as she spoke so inspired a testimony to the Lord of All Creation that reigned over man's fate. This mistaken boy— He said nothing in response, just continued to stare at her, gaze always intense. Forever pensive.

"And that very sorrow that you feel is God's way of guiding you back to Him, for repentance is the door to salvation… the Holy Spirit its key. Humanity suffers for a greater good, Child. Amen."

**__**

The child grew up to wear a cross

The child grew up to pledge a life

The nun then placed her hand on his shoulder and glanced towards the sanctuary, lurid eyes sparkling with something akin to sagacity as she looked upon the man that towered above, whispering almost shrewdly, "You can enter the shrine now… it's your turn."

Then she left. Hall empty. Heero standing there alone, left with no alternative but to do as she bid. Body weary, feet pulling him from his stance to descend the few stairs that would lead him into the small chapel.

_Unlike man, God both forgives and forgets, for by His own words the Almighty says that through our confessions and our sorrow our sins are remembered no more. Clean slate. But man cannot know such grace, for he is the sinner. It is only through God that man can know such love, for no sin is too great for the Father to forgive if true repentance is professed. Murderer's hands as clean as newborn babe's._

****

For us, a time of joy

Behold, Christ a baby boy

That little boy still knelt in the sanctuary, eyes closed as he made no acknowledgment of Heero's presence and steps that resonated off the marble floor to deafen sacred prayer. Child unfazed. Vigil at the Virgin's feet.

**__**

For us His only son

The Mother of God held the infant Messiah in her arms, gazing upon her babe with wonder… fear… protection… bearer's love. The statue's eyes were soft and surreal, the Lord cradled to her breast as any other baby to his bearer—Mary the child's earthly deliverer… and he soon to deliver her.

__

My love, my treasured one are you

My sweet and lovely son are you

You are my love my darling new

Unworthy I, of you

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia

Your mild and gentle eyes proclaim

The loving heart with which you came

A tender, helpless tiny babe

With boundless gifts of grace

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia

King Of Kings, Most Holy One

God The Son, Eternal One

You are my God and helpless son

High Ruler of Mankind

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia

For a long while Heero just stood there, his hands clenched at his side, provoking silent assessment of the woman's words—eyes rested on the sculpture. Torn. Unwilling to let go. The past refusing to leave him. Each moment his thoughts wandered to a faith the pain resurfaced, merciless. But then the nun's discourse reached him to call his mind back to God once more. Relentless circle, hopeful ring.

Penitence haunted him. Divinity loved him. Sin found him.

**__**

All our burdens washed away

Could God forgive even him?

The question was dismissed, for he turned away from the shrine, resolved to forget. This was new… it made him feel… made him hope again, deep down left him with something to search— And so he retreated from it altogether. He wanted solace in routine, the blood and screams that he knew so well from dreams and espoused memories—thoughts and priorities back the way they were not even an hour before this moment.

But someone called out his name.

**__**

And an angel descends with a heavenly sign

"Heero…"

From the statue this plea came.

"Help me… they're trying to kill me."

Hair so carved in waving marble and ceramic form was now tossed as golden tides across the sculpture's face, eyes of cerulean hue meeting his gaze as the statue's lips spoke for him as sadly. Mourning his absence from her touch.

**__**

Good News, Good News, an Angel

brings Good News

"Relena…" he murmured as her face watched his so betrayed, sullen. His eyes were wide, left hand shaking slightly.

"I'm dying, Heero… dying…" and so flooded forth a lake of blood from her turquoise gaze, crystal tears kissing crimson warmth as tallow rock was bathed in red and pale cheek from mortal woman's flesh was scarred in cinnabar— Relena's face suddenly gone, statue clean of blood and water to leave a smooth texture under fingers.

Through the church's double doors he ran, out into the whistling rain that soaked him as he sprinted down the sidewalk to the Vice Foreign Minister's estate. Trembling from cold. Trembling from subliminal dread he witnessed. Perhaps hoping… perhaps praying.

__

Run, Young Heero… run.

---------

"Heero… what are you doing here?" Relena asked the hurried man as she locked the door of her mansion behind her, hand clutching her coat to her breast against the shower's chill while watching him approach. In her other hand she held a bouquet of white roses; hidden amidst these blooms laid a crucifix, both of which she tried to shelter from the rain.

He grabbed her wrist, smearing her skin with water as his fingers wrapped around her warm flesh, and he locked his eyes with hers as they stood there for a moment, ruthlessly struck by the rain. Dripping from his clothes.

"Are you alright, Relena?"

Giving him a gentle smile, eyes tender to his concern, she took her other hand from her coat and laid it on his own, reassuring him softly, "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I…" but his reply was silenced by the rush of three men towards them, dressed in black with hoods covering their faces. They sprinted from the bushes with the thud of their boots echoing through that darkness, all fully armed, and Heero placed himself in front of Relena to shield her from stray bullets, grappling with them.

He no longer carried a gun himself, but that was easily remedied. With a quick flip of the man's wrist he was able to take hold of the revolver from one of the attackers, flipping backwards to dodge the fire of another. The Japanese brought his leg around and tossed the shooter to the ground, about ready to administer another blow to the first when he heard a muffled groan pierce the autumn night. A woman's moan. Dulcet.

Relena lay on the ground holding her chest, soft whimpers of pain escaping from her lips as she tried to regain herself from the collision of the bullet to her chest, and Heero bounded to his feet, killing the man that delivered Relena's shot instantly with a bullet to the temple.

Silence once again as her voice ceased its cry. The breathing of the men stilled by death.

Kneeling to the ground, the former pilot trembled as the gun slipped from between his fingers and onto the dirt beneath him, mouth dry as he listened for Relena to call out his name, for the body lying in the mud to rise and greet him with blue eyes so clear.

"Heero?"

He turned to find this princess sitting up from the dampened earth and caressed by the mild downpour, expression somewhat dazed as she focused on him only a few feet away. As if in realization of something, her hand felt for the crucifix that lay on the ground beside her in the muck, as it was knocked from the bouquet by the impact. Almost hesitant, she held up the holy symbol to his line of sight, its condition testimony to her rescue, how she cheated death on this night. Relena must have been holding the flowers against her chest when the man attacked her, for the metal was contorted and singed where the bullet wrenched just below Jesus' neck—acting as protector to her life. The force of the shot jabbed the metal into her breast, which caused her to fall.

Looking at the crucifix she held, she traced the dents in the silver with thumb nuzzling the most jagged area, only to say, "I guess God had a guardian angel watching over me this time. What are the odds?"

Heero could only stand there, his Prussian gaze on the distorted ornament as he contemplated her words… the coincidence… even irony.

"Yeah... maybe."

**__**

Good News, Good News, an Angel

brings Good News

Releasing a sigh she turned away, wrinkling her nose at the flower petals spattered along the sidewalk in soft, satin snow and her twisted cross, forehead on the back of her hand as she groaned, "I guess I can't bring these things down to the ruins anymore."

"Ruins?"

"Yeah, the remains of the old church that burned down on Crystalline a few years back. I was about ready to go there and pay my respects before… well…" her gaze shifted to the face of the corpse now pelted by the rain. "It's sort of a ritual for me, since I visit there at this time every year."

"The church at Crystalline and Rhine?" he asked her with a hint of confusion in his voice nearly indiscernible, verifying his assumption.

"Yes. It used to be my parish until it burned down… on this night. So ever since then I like to go back and visit it— Pay my respects to those that died."

"Who died, Relena?"

"Luckily only two people were killed, considering the severity of the blaze," she responded as she hoisted herself from the ground and brushed the mud from her skirt, picking up the plastic the flowers had once been wrapped in and shaking her head at the mess. "If I remember correctly, it was a nun and a little boy. The boy was in the shrine of Mary, praying, and that's when the fire started. The nun got out, and then remembered the child, so she ran back in to try and save him. Well, right as she went back inside, the roof collapsed... smothering the fire, but killing them instantly. Their bodies were found the next morning… burned… crushed from the fall of the roof. It was really unfortunate."

"Relena... what was the nun's name?" His stance was rigid, muscles tense as he waited for her answer. Nervous.

"Oh it was such a long time ago that I don't really remember, but I think it was something like Sister Galigar... Galian..."

"Galias."

"Yeah. Heero... how did you know that?" Relena questioned him, brow furrowed as she dropped the roses' stems from her fingers, thorns grazing her skin with red tears meeting the puddles below, turquoise orbs seeking his with parted lips.

He looked at her, eyes filled with intensity. "You're wrong, Relena. I was just at that church, and I talked to that woman and saw the boy. They were fine."

"Heero I saw the fire myself. I know what I saw."

A falling star sailed through the sky so drear, its tail shedding brilliant cinder and ashes as it soared high, illuminating the dark with halloed streaks of white and gold combined. Angelic fire.

**__**

Good News, Good News, I bring you

---------

Heero stood before the few lasting pillars, the rest caked in sludge and blackened embers, wood charred by fiery tongues and sculptures melted to mere clay, this grime carried by the wind that whispered passed its psalm so still. Relena's arms encircled his waist as a voice echoed beyond the darkness, distant from this earthly plain to a prodigal son now returned. The Father's true embrace.

Heero's eyes stared at the remains… an angel's illusion.

__

Veni Sancte Sprirtus

**__**

Good News


End file.
